


value in comfort, in trust, in belief

by ultragayest



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Extended Scene, M/M, Season 5 Trailer, also i know everyone's talking snakes and spiders but my immediate thought was mimic, anyways i listened to the trailer probably five times, season five is coming and none of us are ready, the second jonny puts pen to paper i short circuit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:35:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23307658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultragayest/pseuds/ultragayest
Summary: He does what he can to help, to make do, to offer comfort.-------------There are some things that Martin refuses to give up on.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Kudos: 52





	value in comfort, in trust, in belief

Martin isn’t certain how long it’s been since things went wrong. Since “the Change,” as Jon has taken to calling it. Jon, he’s sure, Knows _exactly_ how long, down to the second (no matter how hard he’s still trying not to), but he doesn’t ask. Won’t ask. Just does what he can to help, to make do, to offer comfort. 

Jon had helped him, when they’d first gotten to the safe house. Now, in a house where it feels like a joke to call anything “safe,” Martin will be damned if he doesn’t find a way to help Jon.

The world is hazy now, making that task even harder than it would normally be; going about life is dreamlike in the sense that it’s easy to believe something is real and true and safe as you’re doing it, only for that image to shatter when another impossible thing happens. It’s nightmarish in the sense that those impossible things are entirely possible and overwhelmingly horrible.

That’s what happens when Martin brings Jon a cup of tea: he remembers finding a box tucked away somewhere, remembers putting the kettle on and stirring a heaping spoonful of sugar in. But that’s not right, because the second Jon points it out—reminds him that they’d run out, that the shop hadn’t had any more, and that _that isn’t tea_ —something impossible and strange comes skittering out of the cup. Martin drops it, of course—if one thing has improved since the Change, it’s his reflexes—and the thing disappears, vanishing to God knows where faster than Martin likes to think about.

But he recovers—because, as Jon reminds him, things don’t work like normal now. There’s not a new normal replacing them, no—just a whirl of mania and terror that they have to adapt to bit by bit, day by day.

He tries, so hard and so desperately, to hang on to what they still have. Daisy’s red tartan blanket that they’d spread over the bed as soon as they’d arrived. The kitchen, still functional enough to make one or so decent, warm meals for them a day. Jon, still here, still alive, even in light of… more recent developments.

He doesn’t say it, but Jon knows where he stands now, with everything. It’s another of the burdens of Seeing, Martin supposes: it’s easier for him to press on, to avoid the complete despair that’s constantly threatening them, when he doesn’t feel it all happening.

Jon is struggling with that.

It hurts Martin more than it scares him when Jon responds, saying that the world and the knowledge isn’t horrible to him. That it feels _right_. He chokes out a laugh and it’s short and bitter, not at all like the immediate aftermath of the statement but just as awful, if not worse.

It _hurts_ him.

So he sets the saucer down and sits beside him. He wraps an arm around Jon and pulls him closer, drawing him into the warmth of the embrace and hoping that it’s some sort of relief. Some sort of comfort—because, despite what Jon says, Martin refuses to believe that that can no longer be trusted.

The world isn’t safe any more. It isn’t welcome. It hardly even qualifies as a world—more an amalgamation of pain and anguish and fear, ringing constantly and audible no matter how hard he tries to drown it out.

So he doesn’t.

Martin knows the state of things, even if he doesn’t See them, but that doesn’t mean he won’t keep pushing. It doesn’t mean he won’t keep trying, won’t keep fighting to carve out something good here, even if it’s temporary. Even if it’s ultimately false. There are still people out there, confused and afraid but still trying, holding their loved ones close and praying that something better comes.

He has to believe that trust and comfort and _hope_ are still worthwhile. This world is cruel, yes, and it’s stripped away so much, but he’ll still hold on to that.

He _has_ to.

There must be something light. Something reassuring, something warm, regardless of how long it lasts. It _has_ to be there. And if Martin has to make it himself, he’d sooner die than reject the opportunity.

Complete despair isn’t an option, and he refuses to let it become one.

**Author's Note:**

> "apparently this is my brand now," i say as i open my notes app as soon as i finish listening to the trailer for the third time, typing while on a zoom call for my directing class


End file.
